


And That Means Comfort, In Some Sort of Way

by damienbloodmarch



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blind AU, FinIce, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damienbloodmarch/pseuds/damienbloodmarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The harder you fall the more it hurts when you hit the ground, like his mother had always told him. But she was a bitch so he didn't really always listen to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After going twenty years of living in eternal darkness and listening to people apologize over and over about how they can’t be with him or how they can’t handle his disability, or even that his disability is the reason that they can’t be with him, he’s given up on falling in love. The people he’s fallen in love with are always the same, going on and on about how his blindness is such a bummer and that they just can’t handle having to take care of him for the rest of their already miserable lives. But they don’t seem to understand he can take care of himself. He’s done it for most of life, so why should they have to step in and be some sort of hero? Honestly, it’s always as if the whole relationship was about them, and sometimes the fact that he can’t fucking see. But it was mostly about them. Because being in a relationship with a blind person is just so _fucking hard._

On his twentieth birthday, after hearing the same speech for what felt like the hundredth time, he officially said that there was no use in trying to fall in love with anyone, because they were all the same. They all spent more time focusing on the fact he was blind than the fact he was a person with feelings. They could never _see_ past the fact he had a disability, as if his blindness was the only thing about him worth noticing. He was sure he had redeeming qualities. But he couldn’t be sure. Because he couldn’t see. In case you didn’t notice. So he had to just assume he was good looking, because no one ever really specified whether he was or not. And if he wasn’t attractive, his sparkling personality was just going to have to pick up the slack.

But only two weeks after his twentieth birthday, he thought he met someone that could maybe be who he was looking for. Aksel whatever the fuck his last name was. He really hadn’t bothered to remember it. Not like he wanted to remember any of his name anyway. Because this fucker brought him down hard, and afterwards acted like what they had had been nothing and the fact that he had hurt him was nothing. The harder you fall the more it hurts when you hit the ground, like his mother had always told him. But she was a bitch so he didn’t really always listen to her. Plus it was so obvious she had gotten all of her quotes from the internet. Not like either of them knew how to use a computer or that they even owned one of the damned contraptions, but from what he had heard about it, there was no doubt that she stolen it from that website, SparkJolts, or whatever the fuck it was called.

But she was right, like she always seemed to be. He had fallen harder than he could have ever imagined. And Aksel let him hit the ground with a _splat._

What had started as feeling Aksel’s gaze on him, and wondering about the feel of his lips upon his, turned into gentle touches and quiet whispers, which then turned into nails scratching against skin and begging for more. And then, it turned into: _I’m sorry Eiríkur, but there’s someone else and I can’t sneak around behind their back anymore. I love him, and I can’t lose him._

_“Well what about me? Don’t you love me?”_

_“No.”_

Did you hear it? Not only the sound of his heart breaking, but the rest of the bones in his body as he shattered against the ground.

_“But didn’t this mean anything to you? Don’t I mean anything to you?”_

_“What we had was a mistake. You were a mistake.”_

_“But I love you…”_

_“Then you’re an idiot. This wasn’t about love at all. Are you really that stupid?”_

And magically the ground opened up under him, and let him fall once more before turning into mush and matter against the sidewalk. Love is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? The one thing he could be thankful about Aksel breaking him into tiny, sharp-edged pieces was that it wasn’t about him being blind. Even though it still hurt like Hell, he could appreciate the fact that for once it wasn’t about the fact that he was surrounded by darkness. But Aksel was still an inconsiderate, self-loving, lying, cheating, insufferable piece of horse shit. Lovely man, really.

And so, five months after his twentieth birthday, he declared and promised himself that love was pointless, didn’t even _exist,_ and that trying to find anyone to love him, and that trying to find anyone to love was a waste of his and everyone else’s time. How it was a waste of everyone else’s time was still a mystery to him, but he was sure there was some way it was. Even though it was suffering, because being himself was suffering, and even though it hurt, he avoided contact with anyone else, not even his small amount of friends, because they were sure to leave him heartbroken and alone like everyone else that he had ever had the _pleasure_ of knowing.

But of course, his mother noticed right away that he had stopped contacting her. While he had deemed her as a bitch (that’s what she gets for not letting him eat macaroni and cheese whenever he wanted), she cared about him, and it hurt her to see that her only son was avoiding her. And in response she got him a therapist. Berwald some last name that there was no point in trying to pronounce. Starts with an O or something like that. Now I can tell what you’re thinking, does poor little Eiríkur fall in love with him too, just after getting his heart broken by what seemed to be the man of his dreams? The answer is no. While he can’t deny that the thought of having something with Berwald has crossed his mind, it would have Berwald lose his job. And surprisingly, he likes him enough to let him keep it.

And it was after four months into therapy and having meaningful conversations that ultimately at least got him a little bit to somewhere, the suggestion of having someone read to him, or as Berwald called it, ‘having a reading buddy’, which sounded fucking stupid. So at first the idea seemed like probably one of the worst things that he had ever heard. He didn’t care for books, because he couldn’t read them and he didn’t want to listen to them, so there was really no point. But Berwald insisted, and like the deceiving, convincing fellow he is, Eiríkur finally gave in with a huff and a slumping of the shoulders.

 _“There’s a man I know who would be good for it. His name is Tino_ _Väinämöinen. Maybe you know him?”_

_“Ber, the only people I associate myself with are you, my mother, my doctor and occasionally the birds at the pet store.”_

_“I was just asking. I can have him stop by next Friday around eight a.m. if you’d like.”_

_“Does it have to be so early?”_

_“Yes. You need to try and wake up earlier in the mornings rather than sleeping till midday. It’s not healthy. It’ll be good for you to get out of the habit.”_

_“Ugh. FINE. So what is he like?”_

_“That you can find out for yourself.”_

_“At least tell me if he’s anything like the…others.”_

_“I reveal nothing.”_

_“UGH. Screw you.”_

_“I would lose my job if you did.”_

_“No one has to know.”_

And that was the start of how he fell in love even though he was positive there was no such thing. Because there isn’t.

* * *

 

It was eight o’ one and there was still no sign of Tino. If he was lucky, then Tino had bailed and gone out to do drugs or some shit. Best case scenario. But of course, luck wasn't on his side that day. Or any day, for that matter. And at eight o’ two, as soon as his clock had announced it, there was a knock on his door. So Tino hadn’t gone out to do drugs. It seemed as though his best case scenario had fallen to pieces. Lovely. Looks like he wasn’t getting any sleep today.

He grabbed his cane from the table and trudged his way over to the door. After fumbling a bit to find the doorknob, he opened the door to be greeted by a way too cheery voice that immediately gave him a headache.

“You’re Eiríkur, right? It’s so great to meet you!” And just as he had expected he was almost knocked to the ground by a hug.

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you too.” He muttered, awkwardly patting the other man’s back. This morning was going to be so much fun. “So what are we reading today then?” He asked as Tino led him over to the couch, even though he could find it himself. He hated people who couldn’t let him do things himself.

“Susie said that you didn’t really like books, so it was a bit of a random pick. But I ha-“

“Wait. Who’s Susie?” He asked, knowing how rudely he had cut Tino off. Not that he cared.

“Oh! Yeah, I forget I’m the only one who calls him that. It’s Berwald.” And then he laughed, which was probably the most annoying laugh that Eiríkur had ever heard. “Anyway, I brought a few of my favorites. Maybe once I get you into liking books we can go to the bookstore down the road and pick a few titles. But I brought The Hobbit an-“

“The Hobbit?”

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No...” He shook his head. ”Continue.”

“Well, I brought that and The Secret Garden. Which one would you rather start with? I would insist on The Hobbit, but it’s your choice.”

“I guess The Hobbit, considering I couldn’t _see_ the movie.”

And again with that annoying, headache worsening laugh that he knew was going to be incredibly hard to get used to. “Was that a joke?”

“I don’t know, _was it?”_

“Oh shush.” He heard pages being flipped. “Chapter One: An Unexpected Party. In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat. It was a hobbit hole, _and that means_ _comfort_ …”

And so for the next three hours he sat and listened to Tino read the story about a hobbit that lived in The Shire in a hole in the ground and about how he had a great adventure. No doubt Tino had thought it would inspire him, or give him some sort of comfort. It was one of those stories that brought joy to people because they could see themselves in that underdog sort of way. But he could see right through it, so it was useless. No doubt The Secret Garden was exactly the same.

But the story was still somewhat enjoyable, and could almost admit he _almost_ felt sad when Tino closed the book and told him he had to leave to meet up with his next client. Some girl not too far down the road who had lost her eyesight in a car accident. Lilli Zwingli or something like that. Not that he really cared or anything.

“How much?” Eiríkur asked, reaching over for his cane.

“Oh you don’t pay me.”

“Um. Why?”

“I work for Berwald, silly. Or at least, I work where he works.”

“So you’re a therapist?”

“Of sorts.”

“Oh. Um. Interesting...I’ll-I’ll let you out.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you next Friday, Eiríkur.”

And a minute later exactly after listening to Tino bustle about with his bag, he heard the door close. With that he fell against the couch, slinging an arm over his eyes. There was no way that he was going to break out of the habit of sleeping till midday. There was no fucking way.

* * *

 

_“So how did it go?”_

_“It was okay. His laugh is a pain though.”_

_“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”_

_“Berwald this is a serious issue. I don’t know if I’ll be able to last when I’m going to have to listen to it constantly.”_

_“It’s only every Friday for a couple hours. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”_

_“But what if I’m not?”_

_“Then you’ll live as a blind and deaf man for the rest of your life.”_

_“You live to hurt me, don’t you?”_

_“I live to help you stop hurting.”_

_“...Yeah. Yeah, whatever.”_

* * *

 

“Maybe after we finish The Hobbit and The Secret Garden we can go to the store down the road and let you pick out a book or two.” He hears papers rustling as Tino flips back to where they had left off. “Because this is about _you_ getting better.”

“You’re not going to cure my blindness, you know. So there really is no point to this. I don’t even like books.” He leans back into the couch and crosses his arms over his chest. Maybe finally Tino will leave and do those drugs he had been avoiding for the past two weeks.

“I’m not trying to help you see, Eiríkur. I’m trying to help you love.”

“I already love.”

“From what Berwald told me, you have more problems with love than you do with your sight.”

“I don’t see how stacks of paper are going to help me love, though.”

“Books do wonders, Eiríkur. Absolute wonders. Now pay attention. We left off on the chapter Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire…Bilbo had escaped the goblins _, but he did not know where he was_. Much like you sometimes, correct?”

“Was that a joke?”

“I don’t know, _was it?”_


	2. Chapter 2

“He said it a great many times, not a thousand times but quite a goodly number. Mary listened entranced.  She felt as if it were at once queer and beautiful and she wanted him to go on and on. Ben Weatherstaff began to feel soothed into a sort of dream…Eiríkur? Eiríkur are you even listening?” Tino asks, placing the bookmark under where he had left off.

“Um. Not really.” Eiríkur answers. Of course he isn’t listening. The Secret Garden is probably one of the worst books he’s ever heard. He can’t say read because 1) He can’t read it, he’s blind. And 2) He would never read it at any point in his lifetime even if he could see, because this is probably literally the _worst_ book in existence. And that passes the Harry Potter series, which his mother insisted on reading to him as a kid, because she felt that since he couldn’t read it, or anything for that matter, that someone should read to him. One book would take a month, sometimes even two because they were so damn long. Who wants to read about a boy who does magic okay sometimes while fighting scary people with no noses and bitches who wear pink? Not him.

“And why is that?” Tino asks, and Eiríkur notes that he sounds angry. And that’s the first time he’s ever heard Tino say anything with an emotion other than happiness. It’s weird, because he was sure Tino was an android who was programmed to say everything in a cheery voice and make blind people think he was their friend. So there goes that theory. Now he has to find another reason as to why Tino refuses to do any sort of drug.

“It’s stupid. Can’t we reread The Hobbit or something? Or go to that bookstore you’ve mentioned at least ten times?” He pouts, and tries to do that puppy-dog look that one of his past partners said was: _You fucking stop doing that goddamn motherfucking **irresistible** fucking puppy-dog look right the fuck now or so help me God I will wipe your blind ass off of the motherfucking planet. _ Irresistible. Romano was a complete piece of shit, but at least he didn’t treat him like a dying old woman every day that they were together.

“We’ll go there once we finish this. Now _pay attention._ ”

“I love it when you take control.”

“Shut up. Now where was…oh there we go.” And right on queue he was back to that overly cheery voice that _had_ to be programmed into him. “--which was quite agreeable. The humming of the bees in the blossoms mingled with the chanting voice and drowsily melted into a doze. Dickon sat crossle-Eiríkur, pay attention.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to. The book is boring.”

“ _Please._ ”

“I’ll pay attention to the books you let me pick out at the bookstore.”

“Are you-oh you have to be kidding me. You’re acting like a child.”

“And you’re not letting me go to the bookstore. You know my mom was quite similar to you. She wouldn’t let me eat macaroni and cheese every day for dinner so now she’s a bitch to me. Do you want to be labelled as a bitch, Tino?”

“You labelled your mother as a bitch because she wouldn’t let you kill yourself on macaroni and cheese?”

“Yes.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m taking you to the bookstore next week…”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

* * *

 

_“Tino told me you almost labelled him as a bitch.”_

_“He insisted on reading The Secret Garden, even though it’s one of the worst books I’ve ever heard.”_

_“It’s considered one of the best pieces of literature...”_

_“By who?”_

_“By people who know what good books look like.”_

_“Well I don’t know what anything looks like. I’m blind.”_

_“In sight and in knowing what good literature is.”_

_“At least I convinced him to take me to the bookstore. I think your deceptiveness is rubbing off on me.”_

_“I’m not deceptive. I just like a good discussion.”_

_“And I like sleeping in on Fridays.”_

_“Well we don’t always get what we want.”_

_“Yeah. I know. I’m kind of an expert on not getting what I want.”_

_“You’re not the only one who experiences pain like that, Eiríkur.”_

_“I just don’t understand why people can’t look past me being blind. It’s like they can’t take time out of their day to try and understand that I’m not my disability and that I’m an actual person who experiences emotions. I just don’t understand.”_

* * *

 

“Can we get Fifty Shades of Gray? I heard that it was really good.” Eiríkur says as Tino leads him through an aisle. He wants to reach out and feel the spines of the books, but he’ll never admit that to Tino, who he has told time and time again that: books are stupid.

“Do you even know what it’s about?”

“Um. Yeah. It’s a metaphor for racism.”

The silence that he gets in response tells him that it’s _not_ a metaphor for racism. “If it’s not a metaphor for racism then…what is it about?” When there’s even more silence, he decides that maybe he should just let it go. Maybe Tino is just racist and doesn’t want to accept the fact that he is. That’s obviously why. Obviously. He should really talk to Tino about it at some other point. “You know what I don’t really care anymore. We should get the first Lord of the Rings.”

“…Yeah. And I was thinking maybe we could get Animal Farm. But only if you want to. If you have any other books you want to get then we’ll get those. Just…please not Fifty Shades of Gray.”

“Tino if you don’t want to get it because you’re racist then-“

“Wait, did you just say I’m racist? Are…are you really insinuating that I don’t want to get it because I’m…racist?”

“Tino it is obviously a metaphor for racism and I can only assume that the reason you don’t want to get it is because you’re afraid to face the fact that you’re racist. Tino I am here to say that reading it will help you understand that racism is a very bad thing and I am more than willing to help you with that as well.” He pats Tino on what he hopes is his back, and gives him a smile. It’ll obviously encourage Tino to face his fears and learn to not be racist.

“It’s not a metaphor for racism. It’s about bondage and sex. And I’m not racist.”

“What’s bondage? What’s sex?” He knows what bondage is, and he obviously knows what sex is, but he likes to get on Tino’s nerves as make him lose that happy voice he almost always has.

“Oh…uh…Has no actually explained it to you?” Tino’s arm moves from his waist to over his shoulder, as is he’s nervous that it’ll ruin Eiríkur ‘s “innocence”.

“Yeah, I have absolutely no idea what sex is. My mommy told me that my wee-wee goes in the lady pocket region and makes little babies. But she never really went into detail. So I wanna know _aaaallllll_ about it.”

Tino doesn’t say anything for at least five minutes before he bursts out laughing. Eiríkur feels Tino’s arm slip from around his should and hears a thud soon follow and Tino cursing under his breath. “Did you just fall?” He asks, poking around with his cane to see where Tino fell. Maybe he can finally whack him in the head and blame it on the fact he was just trying to be a good person and was trying to find Tino so he could help him up.

“No-“ A gasp for breath.” No I-Oh God. No I didn’t fall.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe I did. But you’re blind. So you can’t tell.”

And then, just after Tino gave another gasp for breath, he hears a voice that he knows all too well. A voice that he was hoping that he would never hear again for the rest of his life. A voice that if he did hear, he would beat the shit out of the person who owned the voice with his cane. Because the person who does own that voice is a complete sack of horse shit.

And that voice was particularly close. So maybe he could show the owner of that voice a little thing or two. He doesn’t know what exactly it’ll do to Aksel. In fact he’s sure that Aksel won’t even give two shits if he does see what he’s hoping Tino will go along with. But who knows. Maybe Aksel will burst down crying and admit that he’s loved Eiríkur all along. Not that he really wants him to, because he’s pretty sure that he’s over him, but hearing him admit that what they had had been something would be nice.

“Tino I need you to do something for me.” He whispers quickly, leaning against shelve of books. Making this look real is important to the success of the operation.

“What are you doing?” Tino asks, giving a quiet laugh.

“Kiss me.”

“Wait what?”

“Lower your voice. Now kiss me.”

“Why should I-“ Tino sighs and says the rest of the sentence in a lower voice. “Why should I do that?”

“Did Berwald tell you about that one guy that I met that I dated not too long bef-“

“Aksel?”

“Oh yeah. Him.”

“Oh. Well yes he did.”

“So do you know how important getting back at him is to me?”

“I don’t think us kissing is going to count as “getting back”.”

“So would you prefer going to his house and breaking in and messing with his shit and then getting arrested and probably going to jail for a couple years and losing your job and your dog and your h-“

“Is that your way of convincing me to say yes?”

He hears Aksel’s voice again, but closer. Only five seconds before he’ll be crossing by the aisle that he and Tino are at, tops. How he knows this, he doesn’t have a clue. But for right now he’ll say that it’s science.

“Yes. Now I _really_ need you to-“

Then he feels hands cupping his face and lips pressed against his. It’s gentle, and kind of very, really awkward, but he can admit at least it isn’t _terrible_. He wraps his arms around Tino’s waist and pulls him closer.

He has to make it look real, right? Right…

“You two do realize that this isn’t PDA central, correct?”

_Fucking swiss fucking cheese. Speak of the devil._

Tino pulls away from him and clears his throat. No doubt he’s red in the face.

“Oh, Eiríkur. Nice to see you.”

“Asshole.”

“Now that wasn’t very nice. Didn’t your mother teach you to treat others better than that?”

“She also thinks you’re an asshole. Didn’t you get her letter in the mail?”

“Wait, that was your mother?”

“Yeah.”

“She-oh my god.”

“Yeah. Just because she’s a little old lady doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to-“

“Eiríkur, I think maybe we should go…you know…get the books you wanted?” Tino touches his arm gently, and gives it a slight tug.

He hears Aksel laugh. It’s a mystery to him how he found it to be the sexiest thing he had ever heard only months prior.

“Now what would you want with books?” Aksel asks,

“To shove them up your a-“

Then Tino jerks him away and drags him down the aisle away from Aksel, who he hears laugh once again.

“We never speak of this.” Tino says angrily, his grip on Eiríkur’s arm tightening.

“Yeah. Right.”

He doesn’t want to admit he kind of wants Tino to kiss him again.

* * *

 

_“What happened at the bookstore?”_

_“Nothing. We went to get some books and we got ‘em.”_

_“Don’t bullshit me.”_

_“Did-did Tino-“_

_“Yes.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“I can end it, you know. I can find someone else to read for you.”_

_“That won’t be necessary.”_

_“It will be if anything like that happens again.”_

_“It won’t happen again.”_

_“Okay. I trust you.”_

Big mistake.


End file.
